Welcome To Dubuque

So let me give you a little background on my family. My mom has a three brothers, grew up in a lovely community in a Iowa and moved to Washington D.C. as a teen when her father took a big, big job in the government (no he wasn’t the president but he was one the president’s men). It was a big transition, I mean think about it….we have our kids practicing on COMBINATION LOCKS for middle school for god’s sake and she moved from Iowa to the society circles of DC.

My dad also came from a lovely town in the mid-west. he and his sister had an upper middle-class upbringing and he came to D.C. for college and then law school. That’s how my parents met. this story is about my mom’s family, though.

All the kids grow up, get married and have children of their own resulting in me and my nine cousins. insert swirly time travel sequence and i’m grown, getting married and the rest of the cousins are all in various stages of childhood and teenage years. My grandfather dies and his final wishes dictate that he be buried in his small hometown cemetery overlooking the corn fields in Iowa. It’s lovely and he wants to go back to rest among his family roots. We all fly to Chicago and take a bus for the drive to Dubuque, Iowa. Because he died in May we are able to house the whole clan in the just emptied dorms of a small local college. it’s weird, staying in a college dorm with your whole extended family. #bathrooms #bunkbeds but the whole trip is a little outside the norm.

My grandmother is so sad. My grandfather was her best friend, truly her partner is an adventurous life and we are all on best behavior for her. We have a reception and a mass and a lovely graveside service. Did I mention that most of this family can perform? I mean musically. My cousin who was about 8 at the time, whips out a trumpet (I have no idea where he was hiding it), and belts out the theme from Titanic.as we climb aboard the bus headed for the luncheon. He’s a class act, creative and ballsy. He’s actually very successful in legal marijuana business now. I’m hoping he still remembers me.

Insert another swirly time travel sequence and my grandmother passes away just shy of her 90th birthday (we had a party for her in advance though so she was ready). It’s understood that we will all go back to Dubuque and lay her to rest next to my grandfather.

This time it’s different. I’m an actual grown-up mom with three kids (who I’ve left at home), my sister has two and the cousins are all in millenials enjoying a variety of life achievements. We live all over the country now so we all fly in and meet at O’hare, in Chicago.

The bus is waiting for us. It seems even odder now somehow. less like a field trip, probably because we are all legitimate adults. We all feel a little embarrassed and #partridge family. But with a quick glance around to make sure no one knows us we gamely climb aboard our motor coach once again. …….fun fact: what’s the difference between a bus and a motor coach? The latter has the storage areas underneath and usually has a bathroom…..which is #handy when you go everywhere as a group of 21.

Hugs, cheek pecks, some pretense that everyone is getting along and we’re off! There was some singing, some guitar playing and a random adult cousin that I never knew about. She is very nice, a little quirky and not shy at all greeting everyone with a bowl full of Erma Bombeck cherries and hand-made friendship bracelets for all of us. Ohhh Kaay. It was announced that we would be stopping at the Belvedere Oasis for lunch. Cue murmurs of ooooh …..that sounds nice…..not bad……cool, lunch…..better than i thought….i hope i can wear jeans there. insert visions of water feature. Surprise! The Belvedere Oasis is a rest stop. Yup, just like on the NJ turnpike back at home. We are all hangry so off we scatter for our chick’fil’a and taco bell.

After dining at the Oasis, we bumped along to Dubuque where we engjoyed three days of unexpected family time including a country club reception, a trolley tour, photo ops along the great Mississippi and rolling into the local dinner club parking lot in our grand motor coach. It was an adventure with some tears and a lot more laughs and old connections rekindled and new ones forged.

Since then I’ve had the pleasure of finding the unexpected text, the email or Facebook post from aunts and cousins I hadn’t seen in years and I have released the hurt and anger from old stuff that sometimes I drag around behind me. That trip we laid to rest the last family member of the greatest generation and we rediscovered what is great about all the generations that follow.